The Mystery of the Plush
by snivellusisatermofendearment
Summary: "Very funny, Bruce." ... crack toonverse?


Clark Joseph Kent woke one morning, as usual - 6:00 AM, crisp blue sheets, hair an unruly mess, and flannel plaid pyjamas which gave an impressive attempt at hiding any attractive qualities the man's body might possess. He snuggled down into the covers a bit, wishing, if only this once, his internal alarm clock would break, or at least provide him with a snooze button. It was not until he reached, with a sigh, for his glasses on the nightstand that he noticed the small doll tucked neatly under his arm.

Bruce (Thomas? Danger? Goddamn?) Wayne woke one afternoon, as usual - 2:00 PM, black satin sheets, hair perfect, and a complete lack of pyjamas doing a terrible job at hiding the attractive qualities his body most certainly did possess. What was unusual about this afternoon, however, was the manner in which he was woken. There was no aroma of strong, black Italian coffee, no gentle clearing of the throat to alert him of the time. There was, however, a soft whump as something small and squishy smacked him the side of the face, tossed there from across the room. "Very funny, Bruce," said a voice from where the toss originated. Another rustle and a breeze and Bruce was alone in the room. He frowned slightly and very slowly opened his eyes to meet the day.

* * *

><p>"Um, Bruce, what is that, and why do you have it?" Dick Grayson squinted at the toy that had been unceremoniously shoved very near his face by way of greeting.<p>

"It's me," came the growl.

"… I can see that."

"I told you to stay out of it."

"Aren't we feeling cryptic this…" the boy pretended to check his watch, "always. Bruce what are you talking about? Why do you have a Batman plushie? Stay out of what?" As usual, the boy spoke at about a million miles per hour.

"I told you my relationship,`` Bruce began slowly.`` - my working relationship with Superman is not going to change. Look, son, I understand that you had hoped that…"

"Whoa, whoa, what? Why are we talking about Superman all of a sudden? What does he have to do with anything?"

The older man frowned down at his partner. "You had nothing to do with this?"

"I don't even know what this is." He picked up the plushie. "Besides adorable," he told the doll.

"Clark found that in his bed this morning and Superman took it upon himself to chuck it at my head as though I put it there."

"So you decided that I did? How would I get to Metropolis and back in the middle of the night _without_ Superman?"

* * *

><p>"Alfred!" yelled a very grumpy billionaire, "Alfred! Where is he? He's always just… here."<p>

"He's in Metropolis, remember? You sent him on vacation." The grumpy billionaire's bouncing ward iterated from atop the banister he was doing a handstand on.

"I knew that."

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry Master Bruce, I haven't a clue what you're talking about." The butler held his hotel room phone in a manner completely incongruous with the Hawaiian print swim trucks he was currently wearing.<p>

"So I am to believe that you, being in Metropolis at the time of the incident, were not the one to sneak into Superman's bedroom and leave a plushie doll in my likeness in his bed?"

"Is this a particularly difficult thing to believe, Sir?"

"… No, I guess not. I'm sorry Alfred. I just, I need to know who did this and what they want."

"Do you believe this person to be a threat, Sir?"

"No, I don't think they want to hurt Clark, but they _know_, Alfred."

"Then perhaps you should simply wait to see what they do next. The outcome may be to your liking."

* * *

><p>The next afternoon there was a plush doll wearing red and blue in the arms of a waking Bruce Wayne.<p>

* * *

><p>The notoriously clumsy Clark Kent nearly spilt all his coffee (one cream, three sugars) all over Kat Grant's desk when he saw the impeccably dressed Mr. Wayne stroll in to the Daily Planet clutching a Superman doll in his hand. "Watch it, Kent! Yelled Kat. He mumbled a distracted apology before making a bee-line through the bull pen toward the cause of his distraction.<p>

"What are you doing here?" he hissed in Bruce's ear once it was close enough.

"I own this paper, I can't visit?"

"No."

"But I thought I'd take my favourite reporter out to lunch and maybe thank him for the gift." He waved the plushie in the air.

"Bruce, I didn't -"

"No, of course not, Clark. That would be silly." He winked at the shocked reporter.

"But I -"

"Come on, we have reservations!" He grabbed Clark's hand and pulled him to the elevator.

* * *

><p>"Oh, I really must thank you, Mr Pennyworth, I couldn't have done it without you! And be sure to thank Dick for me, I'll have to send him something sweet."<p>

"I'm certain he would be appreciative, Madame. And I must insist: Alfred"

"Well thank you again, Alfred. Please, call me Martha."

* * *

><p>Years later, on blue silk sheets, two plush dolls lay almost hand in hand, undisturbed on an oversized bed. That is, until they are knocked clean on the floor by two laughing men dressed just like them.<p> 


End file.
